Guns Don't Kill People
by McHammer
Summary: When little Steven's out of the house, his toys come to life! Unfortunately, so does his father's gun collection. Hilarious hi-jinks, shenanigans, and tragedy ensue!


"Steven! Let's go! Pizza Planet isn't going to stay open all night!" A woman called upstairs. The bright-eyed young boy, ten years old, ran downstairs to his waiting mother. His toys laid all over the floor of the Buzz Lightyear-decorated bedroom, motionless. The sound of Steven running downstairs, then out the door was punctuated by the front door slamming shut, followed within seconds by the sound of the car doors closing shut. As the car pulled from the driveway, a trio of plastic Army Men propped up by the window nodded to each other.

"Alright, everyone! The coast is clear!" The minesweeper of the three called out. Him, binoculars-and-pistol guy, and surrendering-with-rifle guy jumped down from the windowsill, as the rest of their comrades began to rise. The leader of the group of Steven's toys, was a weathered Buzz Lightyear action figured named Lefty. As he propped himself up, it was obvious why he was called such by both Steven and the other toys. His entire right arm was missing, lost to a particularly rough playtime, leaving him with only his left. He was never bitter about it, though. His usual friendliness and good attitude was as strong as it was before he lost the arm, which is why the other toys elected him as the leader of themselves.

"Roll call, everybody!" Lefty called across the room. "We all saw Steven throwing some of us around, so let's make sure everyone's still here!" The toys gathered in front of Lefty as he called their names.

"Hack!" A knitted Hacky Sack rolled forward, silently announcing his presence.

"Dr. Hibbert!" A Burger King giveaway in the form of The Simpson's always-laughing doctor stepped forward with a chuckle.

"Jen!" A stack of Jenga blocks, moving in the form of a man stepped up with the clack of his blocky limbs.

"Minesweeper, Binoculars, and Rifleman, we know are here. Carl?" A pair of blue binoculars with wind-up legs chugged forward with the sound of his turning spring.

"Don't forget Colt!" A voice shouted from down the hall. "Colt's still here, too!"

"Goddamn it..." Lefty muttered under his breath, before shouting down the hall. "We've been over this a thousand times, Colt. You're not a toy!"

"Yes, I am!" Colt called down the hall. His voice was a slightly childish and somewhat annoying. Lefty brought his hand to his own face, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"No, you aren't! Now be quiet!" Lefty shouted.

"Hey, I'm coming down there, hold on!" The toys froze where they stood, and anyone who had eyes had them wide open. Colt coming down the hall never ended well.

"Colt, no!" Lefty shouted, while silently gesturing with his arm for the other toys, who ran, rolled, or hopped for safety. Most of the smaller ones found dressers or bookcases to climb under, but Jen, at least twice as tall of Lefty, shattered into her fifty-four individual pieces, and they slid across the hardwood floor into almost as many different hiding spots. The sound of Colt coming down the hall was one of metal hopping along the floor, and Lefty gulped as it neared. The closed-over door opened, and Colt hopped before Lefty, the only toy not cowering underneath cover.

Colt, a M1911 handgun, belonged to Steven's father. He stood up, the grip of the gun laying horizontally along the floor. The trigger moved up and down, like a mouth, as he spoke. Colt's moving trigger made Lefty uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Alright, Steven's gone! Let's party all up in here!" Colt enthusiastically called. "Where is everybody, Lefty?"

"Go back to Steven's father's room, Colt," Lefty said sternly. "You shouldn't be in Steven's room."

"Why not?" Colt asked, somewhat confused. "I thought we toys were all going to listen to Dr. Hibbert's story about what it's like at Burger King!"

Lefty thought about how nice it would be to grab Colt by the collar and give him a stern and serious warning, like that Mr. Monopoly doll who was always trying to start fist fights, and who 'mysteriously' fell from the windowsill one night. Lefty was disappointed as he remembered that guns don't have collars, but disappointment was quickly replaced with fear as Colt started talking again.

"Come on, guys!" Colt's trigger bounced up and down with each word.

"Colt, listen to me very carefully." Lefty stared at him. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," the gun said, his tone rude and snippy. "What is it, Captain Buzzkill?"

"You are not a toy. You are a handgun. You belong to Steven's dad, and you belong in the gun safe. That's where you... how the hell do you even keep getting out of there, anyway?"

"It opens from the inside!" Colt exclaimed proudly. "Guess kids keep climbing inside them and suffocating!"

"That's another thing!" Lefty was clearly losing his patience by this point. "You're always breaking the rules! You're supposed to be in the safe, where Steven can't find you. And for Christ's sake, Colt, stop whispering to his father when he's at the gun range! Stop saying 'rid the world of the unclean ones', you're going to make him perpetrate a goddamn massacre or something! Go back to the gun safe, and leave us all alone!"

"You tell him, Lefty!" Minesweeper Guy shouted from underneath Steven's bookcase.

"Yeah!" Carl called out, from the same shelter.

Suddenly, from the driveway, the family's car door slammed shut. Lefty's eyes opened wide as they heard Steven and his mom talk outside.

"I'm sorry we had to leave Pizza Planet so quickly, Steven." His mother said, trying to console him.

"I don't understand why Dad had to punch the man in the parking lot!" Steven moped.

"I told you, he was eyeballing my junk! You all saw that!" A gruff male voice called, as the trio was entering the house.

"Places, everyone!" Left shouted. The toys all scattered back to the positions Steven had left them in, as Lefty waved his good arm at Colt.

"Get out of here!" Lefty ran back to his spot, laid on the floor, and froze. He opened one eye to be sure that everyone else had made it back to their spots. All of the toys had, even the Army Men with the tough climb back onto the windowsill. Colt, the firearm, however, had not. He just collapsed on the spot, lying in front of the door. Loud, quick footsteps were coming up the stairs. Lefty mouthed a series of F-words at Colt, but to no avail. As Steven flew into the room, he noticed Colt, and picked him up. He looked puzzled, as if it was a toy he couldn't quite remember buying or getting as a gift. The toys watched the scene in absolute horror. As he inspected it, his finger on the trigger, the business end of the gun lined up with his head. There was a bang, then a thud, then a woman screaming, and a man sobbing.

_Alright!_ Hack the Hacky Sack thought to himself. _Garage sale time!_


End file.
